


ii wish i coukd dance with yuou

by imagines



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drunk Texting, M/M, Unrepentant Fluff, VERY SUGGESTIVE TEXTING instead, drunk video-making, otabek’s 21st birthday, the sexting fic that wasn’t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: happy birthday beka :)yyurayura hii.myf reidn s are trying to take my phneblah blah i shouldnt drunk text uyou dont mind od you?[the one where mistakes are made. for @otabek-altin-week day 7: “birthday.”]





	ii wish i coukd dance with yuou

_happy birthday beka :)_

 

yyura

yura hii.

myf reidn s are trying to take my phne

blah blah i shouldnt drunk text u

you dont mind od you?

 

_omg. no i dont mind_

_tell your friends its ok_

 

im miss you so much yura

i wish yiud were here

 

_im gonna see you in like a week remember?_

_you know, when i kick ur ass @ cup of china._

_we can get coffee after ok?_

 

yeah :(

but it woint be my bithdthay anymore

ii wish i coukd dance with yuou

[Attached Video]

 

_uh.. did you mean to send me that?_

_beka?_

_hello?_

_ok… we need to talk. call me in the morning._

-

Otabek wakes up with his head at the foot of his bed, his pillow on the floor, and his jeans still on along with one shoe. Okay, he can work with that. He sends thanks back in time to Drunk Otabek, who’d had the foresight to leave himself a giant bottle of water on the nightstand.

Some digging in the sheets reveals his phone. Four unread messages, all from Yuri. Smiling, he swipes the screen to see what—

Oh. Oh, god.

He crawls back under the blankets, shivering in a cold sweat, and prods the CALL button. Maybe Yuri will still be asleep, maybe he’ll be at practice, maybe he’s ignoring Otabek’s calls, maybe—

“Hi, Beka.”

Maybe he’ll answer on the second ring. “Hi,” Otabek says, and waits for the Inevitable End of Everything.

A very, very long moment passes, during which Yuri is probably pondering the best way to break things off with his secretly-besotted best friend—well, it’s not much of a secret now, which is sort of the problem. Finally: “So, that video surprised me.”

Otabek would love it if he could perhaps just not exist anymore. Poof, right off the planet and out of this embarassing life. “You weren’t supposed to find out like that.”

“How was I supposed to find out?”

“Um…” Otabek plumbs the depths of his fragmented, muddled thoughts. “You weren’t. At all.”

“Ahh.” Another infinite minute drags by.

Otabek digs the heel of his hand into his forehead, which does nothing for the pain or for his general stupidity. “I’m really sorry,” he adds.

“Why?”

Not the question Otabek was expecting. _What were you thinking?_ (he wasn’t), perhaps, or _can we pretend that didn’t happen?_ (he can’t). “I was out of line. I was so drunk, and it was—inappropriate, and—” His head feels like someone doused cotton balls in gasoline, stuffed them into his brain, and lit them on fire. “I’m really not doing this well.”

“The only reason you should be apologizing is if you didn’t mean it.”

The words trickle through the haze in Otabek’s mind, until finally they reassemble themselves into a sentence. Still—he can’t have heard that correctly. “Wait…what?”

Yuri huffs into the phone; it might be a laugh. “It’s not like you recorded yourself stripping and waving your dick at the camera while declaring your undying love for me.”

No, he’d only done that very last bit. “Yura, I just want you to know that if you feel uncomfortable, or want space, or—”

“Hey. Stop. Take a deep breath for me. Now I want _you_ to listen to me.” There’s an edge to Yuri’s voice, the same sharp certainty Otabek first heard three years earlier: _I’m going to win the Grand Prix Final._ Meaning, Yuri’s not screwing around.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m not uncomfortable and I don’t want space. All I want is to know if you meant it. Because that answer changes what I want to say next.”

_[I just. I need him to know, you…know? How much I—fuck it.]_

The damning thirty seconds of video rewinds, replays, remixes itself in Otabek’s memory.

_[I love him. He’s my best friend, but I mean I love him like I want to, to kiss him, and hold him, and.]_

He takes another one of those deep breaths Yuri suggested. It doesn’t help. Yuri always says what he means, so if Yuri says he doesn’t feel uncomfortable…but how can that be true, when Otabek can’t drive away the sensation that he’s hanging by his fingertips from the edge of a cliff?

_[He’s also the most beautiful man on earth, and Viktor Nikiforov lives on this planet, but—I don’t wanna think about Nikiforov, I want to think about Yura, I want…I just want him.]_

And Yuri’s asking him to let go.

_[Oh, fuck this.]_

“I meant it.”

Dead air.

“Yura? Please say something.”

“You are kind of a fucking idiot sometimes,” Yuri says. It’s odd how soft his tone is. “You have a bad habit of pining after me for years and never _doing_ anything about it. Next time you have some big damn feeling about me, I want you to tell me, not wait until it explodes out of you like, like some kind of _emotional volcano_. Because maybe—I don’t know if this occurred to you—maybe I feel like that too.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” Otabek mutters. “I’m considering right now whether to call you on your hypocrisy.”

“I mean.” Yuri is laughing for real now. “It would be fair if you did. But my point is—the last thing I want from you is distance. Beka, I can’t wait to see you. And hold you. And kiss you.”

“It’s my _birthday_ ,” Otabek complains. “Not ‘make fun of Otabek’ day.”

“Your birthday was yesterday, actually, and I—I am making fun of you, yes, but also…” Silence on the line, like the pause before a triple axel. “I want you, too. Is that okay?”

Otabek isn’t sure if his head or his heart will blow up first. “It’s more than okay, it’s—Yura, I am so sorry, I’m about two minutes away from crashing again, and I will call you later if you want—but it is _so_ okay. I just wish I’d told you differently.”

“I’m not sure you know how to talk about your feelings like normal people,” Yuri says. “But it’s just another way we’re alike. Beka, go to sleep, and call me later, and—I love you.”

Might as well go for it. Not like Yuri doesn't know. “I love you too,” Otabek manages, and then he hangs up and falls face-first into the sheets. His eyes are so heavy, but he’s so happy he wonders if he will actually manage to fall asleep…

 Some hours later, he wakes to another series of messages.

 

_i havent mailed your present yet so_

_here you go_

_[Attached Image]_

 

“Oh my god,” Otabek whispers.

- 

being in a locker room with you is going to be a problem

 

_thats ok i was planning to help with your problem :)_

 

THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT YURA

 

_when you call me later you should skype me_

_for reasons_

 

aslkhafdhdf fuck

 

_i mean i think we need to talk more first_

_but yeah good idea!_

 

YURA.

 

_arent you glad i found out?_

_beka?_

_beka what are you doinggg_

 

repacking my suitcase

since apparently i need clothes for taking someone on a date now

 

_oh. okay that’s_

_thats cool_

_i will um_

_also repack yes_

 

now are we even?

or are you going to keep sending me personal attacks in the form of jpgs

 

_…no comment leAVE ME ALONE_

 

:)

**Author's Note:**

> • god i love writing drunk texting.  
> • god i love otayuri.  
> • find me on tumblr! :)


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